


Ace Super Spy

by IceAngelDarkMoon



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Ace Napoleon Solo, Asexual Character, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8249435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceAngelDarkMoon/pseuds/IceAngelDarkMoon
Summary: Illya has been watching Solo, he knows the man's reputation and has seen it with his own eyes, but the more he watches the less it makes sense. Then it clicks; Solo is not a womanizer, not really. But there is still something Illya can’t figure out, so he decides to confront the man about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the almost sad look on Napoleon's face after his nights with the hotel receptionist, and it got me thinking about his actions. Once the idea of him being Ace hit, this just sort of snowballed. 
> 
> I really struggled to try and get Illya’s speech closer to his and less like mine. I tried to copy my friends’ from Poland in their speech pattern, which is a bit more clipped with fewer a’s and the’s. Hopefully it works.

It wasn’t until half a year had passed since their first mission as a team that Illya began to notice that there was something off about Solo. For someone who had it noted in his classified documents that he was a known womanizer, something about that term did not fit. Once Illya was able to articulate this thought in his mind he began to pay closer attention to his partner.

He watched the American when they were on missions and Cowboy was required to be the ladies’ man. Illya watched Solo in the safe houses during and between missions. He even tried to keep tabs on the other man when they had their infrequent breaks; but Solo was too good at disappearing off somewhere in the world only to reappear in time for the next briefing, with his cheeks slightly paler than the rest of his face. The more Illya observed and the more data that he collected, the less the idea of a serial womanizer fit Solo. That was even including the men that Illya had seen Solo seduce, both on and off missions.

The Russian took another week to ruminate on the information, and organize his thoughts before he decided to act. He waited for Gaby to leave on a solo mission for Waverley, as he thought the American might answer more honestly with only one other person present, and even that might not happen, Illya conceded as he noted how rarely any of them saw something true from Solo.

Illya chose his time to approach carefully. Solo had bathed and settled in for the night. Unlike any other time, it was only after these relaxing bubble baths (which Illya teased Solo about mercilessly for his capitalist luxury), when Solo decided that he was not heading out for the night, that Solo allowed his hair to remain in its naturally curly state. Upon discovering this it soon became Illya’s favorite way to see and spend time with his partner, but it was also his least favorite as well. He found that he had to concentrate rather more than he should to make sure his hands did not reach out and play with the curls and discover if they would bounce back into shape if he gave them a soft tug. He found he ended up sitting on his hands or clenching them to keep from embarrassing himself.

This night Illya found Solo tucked comfortably into his couch. He was dressed in his pajama bottoms with just his dressing gown overtop, if Illya’s glimpse of his chest could be trusted. Solo lay with his back against the far armrest, and his legs stretched out over the cushions, where they were just shy of brushing against the other armrest. He was engrossed enough in a book, that Illya could not see the title of, that he did not give Illya any snarky remark as a welcome to the room, so it must be holding the Cowboy’s interest. Illya knew that Solo had heard his approach and trusted Illya enough not to have his gun, or another weapon raised when the Russian had entered. Illya paused by the doorway, just looking at a Napoleon Solo that almost no one ever got to see, one that was not a mask or a performance. He was gorgeous, but he was no longer perfect. His clothing was high quality, Illya could tell from where he stood, but they were older, worn and comfortable, and wrinkled from the couch. Solo’s curls were a riot on his head, and getting worse as he kept brushing a stray one out of his eyes. What caught Illya’s attention the most was the way that Solo was lazily clenching and unclenching his toes. It reminded Illya of nothing so much as an over large cat that was very content with itself. He wondered if when he approached he would hear the low rumble of a purr from Napoleon. The thought made something in Illya’s stomach clench.

“You do know you are allowed to be a normal person when we aren’t on mission, correct? No need to lurk ominously in the door. Unless you are secretly a vampire and waiting for a clear invitation in; you know your way around here.” Solo teased, eyes never leaving his novel, but a smirk took over his face. Illya tried to ignore the slight flush which crossed his cheeks at being caught looking but he rolled his eyes and stepped into the room.

“Not a vampire, wrong country, Cowboy.” He pointed out as he stood in front of the couch. Solo’s smirk just seemed to grow but he gave a nod of agreement. Illya took a calming breath and found himself settling into the pose he usually took when he tried to project that he was not a threat.

“We need to talk.” Illya watched Solo’s face carefully. He was able to catch the subtle shift that happened. The smirk was still there, but it suddenly felt flat, it felt like the one Solo used outside of his apartment, the ‘show-time’ one. After a brief pause Solo’s eyebrow raised in mock amusement.

“I don’t think I have ever heard those words spoken to me. Most certainly not by someone I have never had sex with, and I feel I would remember it if we had done that.” He paused, clearly waiting for Illya to react to this, but when Illya said nothing Solo’s eyebrows seemed to furrow slightly in thought. “You have not filed any paperwork with Waverly, nor have you received any phone calls from the KGB within the last week, so I do not think this is you breaking up with me, platonically-speaking. Or business-wise or whatever you want to call what we have.”

Illya was a little surprised at the idea that Solo thought he might be breaking their partnership. At the beginning he might have considered it. However, even then they had worked well together, their skill sets complimenting each other, and despite himself, Illya found he now trusted the American. There were very few people he could truly trust, and the fact that Solo was one of them was something Illya tried not to think about too much. Illya also realized that he needed to do a more thorough search of his place to find Solo’s bugs. He thought it may be their way of expressing their friendship, they bugged each other’s space to keep an eye on each other. However, Illya did not realize that Solo’s were so extensive.

“No, I am not leaving. You are stuck with me.” Illya gave a small twitch of his lips that approximated a smile, the best he could do with the nerves. He was realizing that his line of questions could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and ended their partnership.

“Stuck is not the word I would use; at least not anymore.” The smirk on Solo’s face was now looking more genuine and Illya felt that dissipate the tension a bit. “Also you have not deviated from your normal routines this week, so I do not think you are ill or on the verge of death. Plus, I have not deviated from my normal habits, so you cannot be worried about me being ill or close to death.” Solo mused, his hand reaching up to push back his curls a bit. “So far it has only been me speaking, which I do not think is fair, as you threatened me with talking. So you need to do some of the talking now.”

Illya could not stop the fond and exasperated shake of his head at all of that. It was a glimpse of what must usually be going on in Solo’s head, and Illya loved it. He stepped closer to the couch and his partner, indicating that he was there to stay, and would not duck out quickly. Solo though refused to move his feet, and in fact, dug them in more firmly to the couch cushion He was making it clear he was not completely ready yet for Illya to be too close.

“If you would leave any space I would hold up my end of the discussion. And was not a threat, you will know if it’s a threat.” He raised an eyebrow meaningfully, and Solo gave one of his quick sideways head twitches that showed his amusement.

“You can stop speculating. I am here because there is something I do not understand.” He never could be subtle, and he also suspected the Solo would appreciate the straightforwardness in this moment. Solo in turn, finally lowered his book a smidge and looked up at Illya. His blue eye’s seemed to be searching Illya’s face, taking in something that Illya did not understand. However, he could see the moment that Solo made his decision. Moving his feet back towards himself, Solo freed up the other half of the sofa.

“If we really are to talk you may as well be comfortable. Or at least not make it uncomfortable for me. You are so tall, and even taller when one is looking up from a couch. It is hurting my neck.” Illya did not call Solo out on this obvious exaggeration but instead moved over to take the space on the couch. As soon as he was settled and turned towards Solo, Solo extended his feet so they rested in Illya’s lap.

“So what is it, Peril, that you need me to explain. If it is about the birds and the bees for you and Miss Teller, I am afraid I am going to refuse on the grounds of conflict of interests.” Solo stated smugly, and dug his heels in a bit more to be annoying. He also raised his book back up; it was again acting like a shield for Solo, and Illya knew the other man was not actually reading.

“I do not know what birds and bees have to do with us, but I think I can make guess, and I do not need your help on that. You really are a terrible spy, there is nothing between Gaby and I.” There was a slight eyebrow raise at this and the book dipped down enough that Illya could see Solo studying him briefly over the top of the book. “Found it was not working.” Illya did not know what else to add and just gave a brief shrug of his shoulder to encompass everything else.

“I would have to be blind, deaf, and mad not to see that there had been something and it seemed to have tapered off. But it was not really my place to pry, so I figured you both would tell me in time what I needed to know.” The book went back up, and Solo gave an answering shrug. “For what it is worth, I am sorry it did not work out for you two.”  

“Thank you. We are still friends and will not impact our work.” Illya assured him, and was rewarded by Solo digging his heels in again.

“That was not what I was worried about.”

“Besides Gaby seems to be pursuing something with Waverley.” Illya gave another shrug.

“I guess I can see the appeal, however, he is not really to my taste.” Solo teased, and wiggled his toes. Illya could not stop his hands falling to Solo’s feet. He felt Solo stiffen slightly at the touch, and then relax as Illya slid his hands to start to lightly massage the bottoms and arch of Solo’s feet. “You are going to spoil me, and then you really won’t be able to get rid of me.” Solo teased and gave a pleased hummed as Illya’s hands continued to move.

“Good thing I do have plans to do so.”

“So what is it that you do not understand and need me to help with.” Solo was slowly starting to relax, and used the arm rest of the couch to stretch his back out. Illya took a breath to steady himself and then started in, ball while continuing his ministrations on Solo’s feet.

“It is something that has been bothering me for some time, and I do not know what it means.” He tried to organize his thoughts. He wanted Solo to know he had tried to work it out himself, and that it was persistent in distracting him. “I have tried to guess on my own, but I cannot find an answer.”

“This must be something if you are trying to be delicate, and admit that you could not figure it out on your own. So spit it out; you are erasing all the work you are doing down there.” Solo teased.

“You are not a womanizer.” Illya stated bluntly, his hands finally pausing as he stared at Solo and awaited his response. Solo’s immediate response was a quick moment of stillness, and then he burst into gales of laughter. It was so intense that he lowered the book to his stomach and curled around it as he gasped to catch his breath. Illya waited for Solo to calm himself down.

“Hate to tell you this Peril, but I am. It’s on my file and everything. I even have a list of people you can ask if you like.” Solo finally got out and he raised an eyebrow to show he meant this in a lewd context. But Illya refused to be drawn in.

“I have read your file; is inaccurate.” He raised his eyebrow pointedly, and Solo gave a wry look and an amused smile, conceding the point. “From observations the term is not correct. Not for what you do at least.”

Solo seemed to stiffen at these words, but his face stayed in an amused expression. He seemed to study Illya a moment before speaking.

“If you are referring to the men, the file writer was aware of them, but there is not a term for it. I hope the men are not a problem.” He gave Illya a hard look, challenging him to speak out about Solo’s proclivities. Illya shook his head and raised one hand and waved it, to show that was not what he had meant.

“I knew this already, Cowboy. We have known each other too long not to notice. You had to seduce several men for missions, I am not a terrible spy. If it were a problem, we would already have dealt with it.” He assured and from where his other hand still rested on Solo’s ankle he felt the American relax a bit more.

“Of course. It has been an issue with others before, so I wanted to check.” He gave a shrug and then brought his book back up, again pretending to read. “Now if the amount of women, and the men, are not the issue, I do not know what you are getting at.”

“Is not easy to explain. Let me speak before you interrupt?” Illya asked, a small smirk tugging at his lips. He really did need to say his piece, but phrasing it as he had would rankle the Cowboy. As predicted Solo gave Illya’s thigh a light kick and rolled his eyes.

“Scout’s honor. Now speak.” Solo gestured with his hand for Illya to continue.

“You do sleep with many people; this is not in question. Both on mission and in your spare time. However, there is something off.” Illya paused and tilted his head a moment in thought before continuing. “The first part is that you do not behave as a womanizer behaves. You are not indiscriminant. It is not all women, or men. It was not even all the very attractive ones. There are many tempting people you never notice. Why did you never try anything with Gaby?” He shot a questioning look at Solo. Solo shook his head slightly, and then looked away.

“When I started to pay attention to your targets, a pattern emerged. Your target’s are not random, instead are only ever people that would be advantageous for you to make contact with. There is always some information or role that they can do or provide.” And as he paused, he felt Solo start to pull his feet back in and away from Illya. Illya held steady and Solo left them where they were.

“Second, and more concerning, is when you return from these ‘liaisons’ you are not happy. Not relaxed. Not better off for having done it.” Illya glanced at Solo, but he could not read the emotions on the other man’s face. It felt more closed off than when he was hiding behind the smirk.

“You are smug, and have clearly done what you implied you did. But there is no gratification.” Illya took another steadying breath. He could feel the tension spreading in Solo, his feet were stiff in Illya’s hand. “You are more relaxed, happy even, after you have cooked a meal for the three of us. Or when you have bandaged us up. Or you when you have fallen asleep on me after missions. You are more relieved from those moments than from all your ‘liaisons’ combined. The second part took a while to figure out.”

This was the point Illya had struggled to figure out, and once he saw it, it was impossible to miss. He felt Solo’s toes curl down trying to make a fist with his feet, but in contrast Solo gave a halfway believable laugh.

“Now that is really preposterous Illya. I do not need a reason to sleep with anyone.” Illya just gave him an unimpressed glare, and he felt Solo sink back away from it as if it were an actual shove. “I can concede that there are often useful reasons to focus my attention on certain people for some objectives. But, you cannot honestly say that everyone has been for information.” Again Illya just stared impassively at his partner, waiting for him to realize Illya was not going to fall for his lies or back off.

“Honestly, what possible cause could I have had to sleep with the hotel receptionist in Italy on our first case. I know you listened in that night; I found your bugs the next morning.”

“Would delay anyone from going up to your room if they came to hotel. Perhaps to keep you to herself, or just curiosity for why another woman was calling. Additionally, she knew layout of the building and movements of people. In case of a disaster, this would have been how you escaped.” Illya stated, and watched as Solo slowly blew out a breath and seemed to shrink down on himself a bit. “And you guessed I would be listening and did it to annoy me.”

“You give me too much credit, it was only to annoy you.” Solo smirked and Illya knew he was trying to calculate a way out of this conversation.

“Even you are not petty enough to keep sleeping with people just on the off chance that I have bugged you and am listening in.”

“It is not an off chance if I know that you always have me bugged. I just assume you are always listening to me.” He gave another covering smirk, before letting his face fall to a more neutral expression. “Except, when I am on leave. Then I assume that you only might be listening in.”

“I do not always listen in, especially at the evenings when you have gone out. And your leave is your time.” He felt more than heard Solo give a soft sigh of relief to that. “However, that is still many people that you are sleeping with when you do not seem to want to. Why put yourself through it? This is what I cannot figure out.” Illya knew that if he kept letting Solo lead they would lose the thread of the conversation. Solo closed his book and set it down on the ground. He then studied Illya again briefly, but waited until he was contemplating his own hand before he spoke.

“If I tell you it doesn't mean anything and you are making this up; would you believe me?” Solo asked, his voice already sounding defeated. He glanced up to Illya's face to see him give a quick shake of his head. This earned a sigh from Solo. “And if I asked you to drop it, leave the topic alone? For my sake?” There was almost an edge of pleading in Solo's voice now. Illya took a moment to consider this. But in the end he could think of no way that Solo's continued masquerade could help him. So Illya again shook his head.

Solo gave a weary sigh. “I didn't think you would, Peril.” Solo then started to pull his feet back, but Illya held on. He was worried that Solo would try to slip away.

“I am not running away. I know you could and would catch me. Besides, that is too much effort for me on a lazy evening. I just need a drink if we are having this conversation.” After giving another experimental tug on his feet Illya grudgingly gave Solo back his feet. Illya watched as Solo turned and then stood gracefully. He adjusted the fall of his short robe before striding across the room to where his scotch sat waiting. He poured one and drank it quickly, all without looking at Illya. Then he poured one more glass before he spoke.

“I don’t suppose you want any?” Solo asked as he shook the bottle slightly behind him towards the Russian on his couch, but still refusing to look at the other man.

“Nyet.” Illya watched as Solo placed the bottle down and took his glass and wandered to stare out the window that was next to it. Even Illya had to admit that it was a beautiful view and with Napoleon framed there in the moonlight, it was like a painting. Solo took another drink and hummed to himself at the taste.

“I feel I should let you know that I have only attempted this conversation once before,” he took another small sip of the scotch before continuing, “and that did not end well. For either of us. And she was someone I thought I was in love with.”

Illya could hear the hurt and nostalgia that combined in Solo’s voice. He wanted to reach out and rest a hand on the American’s shoulder, but he knew that the Solo in front of him right now would shrug it off and make a cruel remark. So Illya just waited.

“Do you know how I actually got caught?” Solo asked, leaning against a forearm braced on the windowsill, looking down below them.

“Some sort of accident, it was not part plan. That is all I know. I assumed you were overconfident.” Illya had wondered. From working with Napoleon as often as he got in trouble he got out of trouble. For a man that planned and gambled as Napoleon did, it did not seem possible that the CIA had been able to catch him, even with a taskforce specifically for it. Solo gave a humorless chuckle at that answer.

“In a way you are right, I was confident that she loved me, too. That she could look past one more flaw.” He gave a push and went back to standing and gave a rueful shake of his head. “After we had this conversation she seemed to process well and I thought we were good. However, the next evening she stabbed me in the back. And I am not being poetic here, I still have the scar on my back to prove it.” Here he passed the mostly empty scotch glass back to the tray. Then he did something at the front of his robe, and his left shoulder was bare and peeking out. From across the room Illya could see a rather nasty looking scar that was clearly where something had penetrated Solo’s back. After another moment Solo shrugged the robe back up, but it clearly hung open at the front. He sighed before continuing.

“Then, because of course I never loved any normal person, she had poisoned the blade and I fell forward and smashed my face against a brick fireplace when I passed out. You probably hadn’t realized that I was not born with a cleft chin.” Illya felt his eyebrow raise at this. He could not help that his eyes traveled to the scar when Solo glanced over his should at Illya.

“However, that was the least of my worries. She had pinned a note to me when she left, explaining who I was and what crimes I was wanted for. The task force that captured me had been after her. She used them to get rid of me, and me to distract them from her. She probably meant for someone to kill me in prison, but she underestimated my worth to the right sort of shady people.” He gave a small shrug as if it did not bother him. “Anyway, she never realized she triggered one of my fail-safes, and one of the not so nice groups that she swindled once killed her. Guess I didn’t really trust her that much.”

“No, but it is the business that you both were in.” Illya himself gave a small shrug. He found he did not care that Solo had caused this woman to die; it was better than what Illya would have done to her. “You still have not answered my question.”

“No I haven’t.” He gave anther long sigh before continuing. “You’re right of course that I am not a womanizer, I merely mimic one.”

“Why?” Illya was baffled.

“Because it is safer than the alternative. I think when I started I hoped that if I faked it long enough I would actually become one. However, at a certain age you just have to accept you are not going to change. By then I had become so good at faking it, I could use it to help me.”

“What are you hiding?” Illya felt both his brows furl together in confusion. He knew the Cowboy could talk in circles, but he really was lost this time.

“It is not easy to explain. But I understand when most men see a very attractive person, there is a desire to have sex with them?” Solo turned to face Illya. Illya gave a shrug, as that was mostly true. “I have never felt that urge. Not once have I looked at anyone and felt the need or desire to have sex.”

“That does not make sense, you have sex all the time.” Illya countered, and Solo just gave a wry little smirk in response.

“I do. The plumbing all works. I admit it can feel nice, and I have been told I am very good at it. But that doesn’t mean the desire was ever there. If I never had sex again I wouldn’t even really notice. Or at this point I would just be relieved.” He gave a small humorless laugh at this.

“But you loved that woman that betrayed you?” Illya asked quietly, he knew any sign of fighting about this would send Solo running or at the very least hiding behind his masks again.

“You should know that sex and love are not the same. I am perfectly capable of love and even want a relationship. But to me sex doesn’t mean love, it is just a thing. I like the closeness of it, and giving pleasure to someone I like. But I would rather hold them or cook for them. That is much more fulfilling for me.”

Illya took a moment to process everything Napoleon had just told him. It didn’t make complete sense to him, but in a way it worked. It explained some of Solo’s behaviors, and his insecurities.

“Ok.” Illya finally answered. This caused Solo’s eyes to snap to his in confusion.

“After all of that, that is all you have to say?” He asked incredulously. He stalked over to Illya, his robe fluttering about him at his speed. Illya reached out and tugged Solo’s hand until he sat back down on the other end of the couch.

“I do not completely understand,” Illya started and he saw Solo stiffen as if preparing to fight. “But you do not completely understand everyone else.” He gave a shrug and Solo’s shoulders relaxed.

“I do not like that you are putting yourself through something you do not want. Especially, when you do it for me.”

“I do not know what you are talking about Peril.” Solo tried to insist.

“When you ‘get caught’ by owner of house. Those are not careless flings that you could not help, not if I understand you.” He raised a questioning eyebrow and Solo turned his face away. “You get caught on purpose to let Gaby and I escape. You have been tortured for this.” Illya reached out and gave Solo’s hand a light squeeze at this. He always hated seeing Solo after they had to rescue him, but knowing now that he did that for them made it harder to think about.

“Better to catch someone sleeping with your wife than the person who stole your illicit weapons.” Solo shrugged, but did not pull his hand away from Illya’s. Illya found that he did not want to give Solo back his hand.

“You do not have to do this for us. You do not have to sleep with people you do not want to. Even KGB would not ask that of me.”

“No one asks it of me. It just makes sense to have the one person who can’t be swayed by it do it. It keeps everyone else safe, and I don’t mind.”

“But you do not like it.” Solo did not respond to this. They let the silence between them stretch out. Illya found that whatever he expected Solo’s reasons to be it had not been this, but it was not a bad thing. Before, when he could not fathom Solo’s secret, he had not let himself really hope. He was not sure what dark secret it could be, but surely it would mean that Illya could not risk feeling more for his partner. Now though, he knew what Solo put himself through to play his part, what he did to keep them safe. And Illya could not change the shift in his feelings, even if he was not completely sure how it could or would work. Taking a breath, he broke the silence.

“What is relationship?” He asked, his voice low and awkward again. He felt Solo turn to look at him in amusement and added before the other could comment on the ambiguous statement. “To you? Perfect for you, what would it be?” He felt Solo take a startled breath at this, and then tug his hand from Illya’s. Illya let him, and watched as the Cowboy stood again and walked back to the window. Again he stood with his back to Illya and the room.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said quietly, so quietly that Illya almost did not hear him. “Even if I had someone I trusted and who could look past my many flaws, we work too irregular hours to maintain a relationship. Never being able to tell someone what I do, or when I can be home, that is not a good start to anything. Besides, none of that matters. I could never start something when I know I will be dead within five years.” He gave a small shrug of his shoulders and continued looking out of the window. This statement, said in such a blasé way caused Illya to jump to his feet and stalk over to the other man. He roughly turned the American by his shoulder to face him.

“What?” He asked darkly. Solo glanced at him briefly before turning his face to the ground.

“You can’t have been that naïve to think that the CIA is really going to let me go?” Solo asked with derision. “They know I have too much information to be safely released.” He gave a shake of his head before continuing. “I know that sometime before then I will have an ‘accident.’ And that is only if I don’t die on a job sometime before then. Either way, I can’t put someone else through that.” He moved as if he were going to turn away again, but Illya took the moment and pulled him closer. With a startled noise from Solo, Illya pulled him into a tight hug.

“No.” He said simply, as if that was the final say on the mater. And in a way it was, there was no way he, or he, Gaby and Waverly, would let that happen.

“Just because you say something doesn’t mean it will happen or change anything.” Solo argued from where his face was buried in Illya’s shoulder. Illya also felt the American’s hands clenching tight to the fabric of Illya’s shirt.

“We will not let this happen. I will not let it happen.” It was a promise, and Solo knew better than to argue. Maybe another day, but right now was not the time. They stood there clutching each other for another long moment before Solo spoke.

“This.” Illya gave a confused hum as he had no idea what Solo was talking about. He felt the slightly shorter man give a soft laugh. “You asked what I wanted in a relationship. This. This is what I want.”

Illya was confused by what exactly Solo meant and tried to pull away just enough to see the other man’s face. Instead of letting him, Solo clung tighter and refused to let Illya pull away.

“Someone that I trust to have my back. Someone to hold me when I need it, and that I can look after in turn. Someone that I love and could love me in return. That is what I want.” It was said in a quiet but fierce whisper. Illya found that his heart sped up at the words. It was not just the tickle of Solo’s words against his neck, but the simplicity of them.

“And would there be kisses?” Illya asked, just as softly. He really was not sure of the answer. He hoped it was yes, but either way he would be content. He could feel Solo nod against his shoulder.

Pulling back just enough that he could see Solo, he used one of his free hands to tilt the other man’s face up towards his. It took a moment for Solo to open his eyes from where he had been holding them tightly closed. There was a moment of wary confusion on his face as he met Illya’s eyes. Then they seemed to clear and he nodded once more, moving Illya’s hand this time. Illya slide the hand so it was gently rubbing one of those sharp cheekbones. Before either of them could second guess what they were doing, Illya leaned in and sealed their lips together. A slight shiver seemed to shoot through Illya’s spine at the touch. It was perfect. He felt his other hand drift to cup Solo’s other cheek. Solo’s hands wound themselves into his shirt and held him close. It was only a little while later they pulled apart to catch their breath. Neither moved far, only an inch or two apart.

“A good kiss will not fix me.” Solo warned. “I will not ever want sex, so you will have to lead on that.” Illya felt a frown tug at his face at this.

“There is nothing to fix.” Solo have an unbelieving snort at this, but Illya did not let him pull away. “You are you, that is perfect.” Solo raised a disbelieving eyebrow at this. Illya felt a smile quirk his lip as he added, “Too capitalist, but we can work on that.” This caused Solo to laugh and Illya could not help leaning in to kiss him again and taste that laugh.

“You should not do what you do not want. I will not die from not having sex.” Illya stated when they pulled apart.

“And I will not die from having it.” Illya furrowed his brow at this, and Solo smiled gently at this. “We can discuss sex later, if you like. But can you just,” he trailed off and motioned towards the couch. It took Illya a moment to understand and then he smiled and nodded. He tugged Solo with him to the couch, and once he sat, pulled Solo into his lap. Napoleon sighed contentedly and snuggled into Illya’s embrace, his face once more finding its way to the junction of Illya’s neck and shoulder. Illya let one of his hands drift up and start playing with Solo’s unruly curls. They were just as soft as he had always guessed they would be. Solo made a noise like a purr from his lap and leaned into Illya’s fingers. Illya could not help the pleased chuckle that escaped him.

The next morning Gaby, back early from her mission, found them wrapped around each other on the couch, and quietly let herself back out before she could disturb the two.


End file.
